


Awaiting Spring

by iammorethananame



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky misses his wife, Cerberus is a massive puppy, F/M, Hades/Persephone AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammorethananame/pseuds/iammorethananame
Summary: Hades just wants his wife back and also Hades is Bucky Barnes. That's it. That's the whole thing.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	1. Summer

The frozen stone of his throne had long ago seeped into his bones and chilled his blood. The long hall was vacant of souls, but the whispers of the dead permeated the dry air of the Underworld. As in most moments of such stillness, his thoughts wandered beyond death, beyond the Fields of Asphodel, to the sunlit world of the living, to open meadows of swaying prairie grass, to her. His warmth, his comfort, his wife.

Flowers trailed in her path and her hair smelled of a rainstorm. Her gentle touch was the morning mist. The touch of her lips sunlight dancing across his face. How this goddess had willingly chosen to stay with him was a mystery he hoped to never solve.

An icy draft swept through the room, howling mournfully as it scraped across the cavernous ceiling. A horrid reminder that she was not here. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, wishing she was here to drive out the winter. The weight in his chest kept him from retiring for the evening. The thought of another night alone chipped away at his heart. Dead flowers wreathed the room, framing windows, wilting along the curtains, awaiting her soft whispers to burst back into bloom. Even the bulk of Cerberus could not fill the hollow space in their bed. He couldn’t even look in the mirror without feeling her absence. The splintering cracks along his stone arm were devoid of the climbing ivy she coaxed to life the second she returned to him.

Taking a stuttering breath he reminded himself it was for her own good. A flower such as she couldn’t bloom in his darkness.


	2. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky continues to hate the cold

Servants stumbled out of his way as he stalked down the halls of the great stone palace. They knew better than to disturb him this far into winter. The obsidian accents along the walls glinted sinisterly in the torchlight. Mocking him. Reminding him it was the only warmth he would feel in the foreseeable future.

He clutched his stone arm tightly to his chest. The cold always settled in there first, making it ache intensely the entire season. Thick cracks ran the entire length and some days it felt like it would crumble into dust without his wife’s ivy holding it together. He had done his best, as he always did, not to disturb the plants after she left, but after a hard winter any trace of her blessing had long since decayed.

A wave of fresh pain hit as he shifted his shoulder, causing him to pause just steps from the throne room. Leaning against the wall for support, he sucked in a breath through his teeth. The cold stone leeched what little warmth his fur cloak supplied. Without warning, a few tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks. God, he missed Persephone, his queen, his goddess, his wife. It was still a few weeks until her return, but gods he needed her now. Her laugh. Her smile. Her kind eyes reminding him he was more than the god of death. He was hers and that was a title we would carry proudly till the foundations of the earth crumbled: Persephone’s husband.

Running a hand down his face, he pushed off the wall. At the sound of his footsteps, a series of short yips echoed from the throne room’s open doors. Just as he reached the entrance a three headed Tibetan Mastiff bounded into him and nipped excitedly at his cloak.

“Cerberus, you know better. No biting,” Bucky sighed, brushing the nearest head away. The dog paused. At his shoulders, Cerberus came up to the god’s waist. Three heads peered up at him in unified curiosity. Then with a look of determination, the hound scampered behind him and began nudging him forward. Before he could reprimand the dog further, a tinkling laugh sounded from the throne. It sounded like the first bird song of spring. It sounded like life. It made his heart stall.

There, perched on the throne, surrounded by loose petals, lounged his wife. “I think Cerberus is excited I’m back.” Her voice washed over him like stepping into sunlight.

Words froze in his throat as he nearly ran across the hall, tears freely falling. Her broad smile put Helios to shame as she jumped into his arms without hesitation.

“You’ve no idea how badly I missed you,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. She only tightened her grip in response. “I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I–”

She cut off his desperate declaration with the gentle pressure of her lips. A soft reassuring kiss. A promise of more. “I know, Bucky.” Her lips grazed his as she whispered. “I know and I’m here and I love you too,” she pulled back to meet his gaze, “so much, you’ve no idea.”

A wide smile broke across his features as he peppered her face in kisses, whispering “you’re back” as he did so. Without warning, he spun her around, matching her giggles with his own full laugh. Cerberus’s deep barks joined the couple’s elation.

Finally setting her down, he kept his hands cupping her elbows, keeping her close. “How are you here so soon? It’s still three and a half weeks till the Autumnal Equinox.”

Persephone flushed lightly, already tracing the cracks of his stone arm, little buds beginning to peak out. “I couldn’t stand being away any longer, so I called in a favor from Boreas and he sent Chione out with an early blizzard.”

His heart clenched at the idea of her missing him as dearly as he had missed her. “I’d say I feel bad for stealing you from your mother early, but… I’m just so damn happy you’re h-here.” He tripped on the last word, forcing back what he wanted to call his palace.

His wife, however, was having none of it, as she cupped his face in her palms and leaned her forehead against his. “My dear husband, I’m home.”


	3. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look they're both soft and cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WIPs haunt authors sometimes to the point of productivity. Maybe someday I'll complete all four seasons, but I make no promises and there's no timeline.

He woke up to the feel of his hair being braided. It was a familiar feeling, vines of flowers growing into the weaving as Persephone crossed strand over strand. Her own hair danced loose around her face, an assortment of buds, petals, and long stemmed wildflowers waiting on her nightstand. Dappled light danced across her face mimicking how it looked underwater. Her smile outshone the natural light of the underworld with ease, warming his being more than the sun ever had.

Closing his eyes again, he tugged her soft body down to his. A soft hum left her lips as she nuzzled further into his neck. Fingers tracing, always tracing, his stone arm, climbing ivy sprouting new leaves, growing stronger.

“And just what has you awake so early, doll?”

She ran her nose along the length of his neck because she could. “Cerberus was convinced I would leave without throwing a stick with him one more time. I tried to explain to him that I still had over three months here, but he didn’t seem to understand.”

His chest shook lightly and he dropped a kiss on her forehead. Her scent wrapped around him, twining with the deep earthy scents of his palace, a soothing reminder that his realm was more than death and decay.

“I’m sure he’ll give you another chance to explain tomorrow morning.”

She grunted in agreement before pushing off his chest. The loss of her embrace caused him to let out a childish groan. He pouted when he felt her weight lift from the bed.

“It’s still early, Seph, come back to bed.”

“Nope.” The covers flew off him and he shut his eyes tighter. “I missed the morning glories blooming yesterday because of you and your sweet talking. Now get up and braid my hair.” The smile in her voice was impossible to miss.

“You like my sweet talking,” he muttered even as he blinked himself awake and moved into a technically upright position.

Their morning routine never differed. He would wake to find his hair entwined with baby’s breath or small pink buds and his grinning wife. On a good day, he could convince her to lay with him just a bit longer. Most days were good days.

Regardless, just before they actually prepared for the day, he would braid her hair and work her flowers into the tresses. The week immediately following her return was always the worst. His stone arm shaking so bad at the delicate motion that the braid looked like that of a small child. With her warmth and her patience and her ivy, fine motor skills became easier and he could once again give her the crown she deserved.


End file.
